Page 50 of Aisle Come Back to You

“Let’s just enjoy this. It’s our first date. We deserve this,” she reminds me as she places a hand on my arm, clearly picking up on my own nerves. Not only that, but she’s absolutely right. I’ve waited too damn long for this date to take place to let something as trivial as gossip get in the way.

“So, what are you getting?” I finally ask, ready to take her mind off the weirdness so we can focus on what is important here—us.

“Are you serious?” she asks, laughing as I nod my head.

“Yeah, I kid you not. Every time I go into my classroom I have to look around carefully because they’re constantly switching out the pictures around my room with pictures of Chuck Norris, Taylor Swift, or John Cena. I will say, I have left up a few because they’re actually pretty funny,” I chuckle as I swirl some of the leftover spaghetti on my plate around my fork.

“I could see it. You’re definitely a secret Swiftie, huh?” she teases, poking my side.

“I see nothing wrong with that. The woman knows how to write an amazing song.” I shrug before lifting the bite into my mouth.

“I feel like that checks out. Every time I talk to Ronnie she’s always blasting one of her albums in the background and I’m sure she’s forced you to listen to it, too.”

“Oh, uh, yeah. It was all Ronnie,” I playfully joke and nod, totally ready to let her take the blame, even if I do occasionally find myself listening to some of her songs on my own. “Truthfully, though, I don’t totally mind her music, and Jenny was always super into her as well,” I say, without much thought since, after all, Jenny has been a huge part of my life for so long. However, I’m filled with immediate regret, since while she recovers quickly, there’s a distinct change in Blair’s demeanor at the sound of my ex’s name. “But it’s the Chuck Norris pictures that are my favorite,” I add, doing my best to change the subject. “Especially since they’re usually accompanied by one of the many hilarious Chuck Norris jokes. Actually, one of my students told me a really good one the other day,” I preface, setting my fork down as I turn my body to face her. “Did you know that Chuck Norris once kicked a horse in the chin? They now call it a giraffe.”

She laughs, and it’s hard not to find relief in that beautiful melodic sound. “That is a good one,” she agrees. “Have you heard the one where Chuck Norris doesn’t need a watch? He decides what time it is.”

Her laughter is contagious as I laugh along with her. “I hadn’t, but I like it. I’ll have to tell it to my students. They’ll love it.”

“You know, it’s actually kind of cute,” she starts as I raise an eyebrow while reaching for my Dr Pepper. “It’s clear you have a good relationship with your students and that they like and trust you enough to want to do all that.”

“You know, it could always be the opposite and it could be because they have no respect for me,” I offer, even if I don’t actually believe that. I’ve always made it a point to connect with each and every student that comes into my classroom, and my effort has, thankfully, for the most part, been reciprocated.

“No, there is no way that could be true,” she decides, and with little to no thought I lean forward to press my lips against hersfor a quick kiss, but instead of pulling away, I can’t help but linger, and she doesn’t seem to mind as she kisses me back, her hand coming to rest gently against my chest.

“So, are we thinking we want dessert tonight?” I whisper against her lips, pulling back only enough so I can look at her angelic face.

“Oh, we’ll definitely be having dessert tonight, but not here,” she softly giggles before pressing her lips to mine once more.

“Ford Hastings,” a stern voice says, killing the moment.

The last thing I want is to end my kiss with Blair, but at the sound of that unfortunately very familiar voice, I practically leap to the other side of the bench, leaving ample space between the two of us.

“Mary,” I say, doing my best to control my racing heart. “Hey, how are you doing?”

“Oh, cut the shit, Ford. Is this seriously how you’re going to act now?”

“Mary,” I say, attempting to strike a fine balance between sternness and respect in my tone. While I can understand why Mary, Jenny’s mom, is upset to witness this scene after our two-year marriage and the many years we’d dated before that, she has to realize that she can’t address me in such a manner, especially in front of my date.

“Don’t ‘Mary’ me,” she huffs, clearly not planning to calm down. “Do you not get how disrespectful and embarrassing this is to Jenny?”

“Mrs. White,” Blair cuts in. “I’m so sorry. The last thing we want to do is—”

The murderous glare that Mary sends her way stops her from saying more. “If you for one second think I want to hear anything from your whorish mouth, then you have another thing coming, missy.”

“Whoa, I’m going to need you to stop right there,” I say, stepping out of the booth as I stand between the two women. I don’t expect things to get violent or anything, but I plan to put a stop to this immediately. There is no way I’m going to allow her, let alone anybody, to ever speak to Blair that way. Even more, this isn’t the normal kind of behavior I’d expect from my former mother-in-law, and the last thing she needs is to say something that I know all of us will regret in the future. “Do you really think Jenny would want you out in public saying something like this?”

“No, she probably wouldn’t,” she says, her tone indignant. “But someone needs to stand up for my daughter after all you put her through. We talk, you know, and she,” she continues, her gaze moving around me as she points a finger toward Blair “is the cause of all the problems in your marriage. If it weren’t for her, you and Jenny would still be together. I know it.”

Glancing back, it’s disheartening to witness the transformation of the strong, confident woman I’ve always known shrink into a small, defeated figure, practically sinking into the corner of the booth.

“Mary, I need you to go,” I command, not backing down. “But first, understand this: Jenny and I aren’t together because we aren’t right for each other. Whether you believe it or not, I do love and care for your daughter, and that is exactly why we needed to end things. She deserves to find the right person for her; the person who truly loves her, and it’s only right that I deserve to find the same thing. End of story.”

“And let me guess?” she asks, with a resentful huff. “She’s the right person for you? The one that you’re going to flaunt in front everyone’s faces, not caring who you hurt in the process?” Mary seethes, her eyes once again shooting daggers in Blair’s direction.

Yes. She is, but I’m not about to dignify her ridiculous question with a response, especially given the way she’s acting—she doesn’t deserve an actual answer. “We’re done with this conversation,” I say instead, as I nod for her to keep moving.

Mary looks like she wants to say more, but as I keep my composure, she shakes her head and gives Blair one final glare before turning to leave the restaurant.

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